


one more chapter

by svgawara



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, frank and karen sharing their love for books is all i want in life, if u wanna cry over kastle with me then welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 11:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svgawara/pseuds/svgawara
Summary: He knew she had grown up in Fagan Corners, Vermont, but had moved to New York to pursue a career. Could pick out a piece of her writing based on her style and get it right every time. Hell, he had even memorized her order at the rundown Thai restaurant just down the block. However, there was a lot he didn’treallyknow about Karen. He’d been okay with that—he never wanted to push or step outside his boundaries—but hearing about her brother for the first time made him realize there was a lot more to Karen than what she so often displayed.





	one more chapter

**Author's Note:**

> so i've actually had this idea in mind since S2 of daredevil, but hadn't really played around with it. i was inspired again by the scene in S1 of the punisher where karen invites frank to her apartment to talk, and i couldn't help but notice how much time frank had dedicated to merely observing and taking in her space. the overcrowded bookshelf stood out to me, and i wanted to couple that with frank's love of books (as seen through the amount he's borrowed from curtis and micro). 
> 
> writing this was a lot of fun—a rollercoaster of emotions, but fun nevertheless. i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

Frank unscrewed the bottle of Jameson, pouring another drink for himself and one for Karen. He scrunched his nose as the alcohol hit the back of his throat while he plopped back down on the sofa cushion.

“One more chapter.”

Karen covered her mouth, suppressing a laugh. They’d been nursing the bottle of whiskey all night, one she had subconsciously bought knowing it was Frank’s favorite. A warm blush crossed her cheeks, but she wasn’t entirely sure if that had been due to the alcohol or Frank. Perhaps both.

“It’s 3AM, Frank.” 

Frank glanced over at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall, eyes squinting and readjusting to read the time. Running his fingers through his hair, he propped an elbow on the top of the sofa and smiled sheepishly. There wasn’t any hiding that they were both tired, but he knew that for once in her life, Karen had the weekend off. Although aware that it was selfish of him to take up her time, knowing that she could have other plans outside of their Friday night routine, he couldn’t help but take advantage of the rare opportunity.

“C’mon Kare. You can’t leave me on a cliffhanger like that.”

///

It had been months since Frank had re-entered Karen’s life, long after everything had been said and done. He stopped by occasionally to check up on her a few weeks after everything, swearing to himself that he only wanted to make sure she was doing well. He ignored the fact that quick visits soon evolved into cracking jokes over coffee and beer to spending the evening sharing takeout while watching horrible sitcoms they both knew they had no interest in. He always pestered her with random questions about her living space—why in god’s name did she have to own three KitchenAid mixing machines (in her defense, she claimed it was just in case the other two broke) or why did she select particular art pieces to display in one room but different ones in the next (Warhol on the end tables in the living room seemed reasonable, but Pollock in the bathroom just felt wrong).

The bookshelf in her living room had caught his attention more times than he’d cared to admit, overflowing with countless classics to novels he’d never even heard of. He popped the question one afternoon while she had been fixing up two cups of coffee.

“Hey, do you—you think I could maybe borrow one of these books sometime?”

Karen turned around, heading over to the sofa as she placed the coffee mugs on the table.

“Of course, Frank. Didn’t know you were much of a reader.”

A soft chuckle escaped from his throat. “Mm, yeah. Helps to pass the time, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Karen cracked a warm smile, walking over towards the display. “Honestly, I haven’t touched over half these books since I’ve purchased them, so I don’t really have a ton of recommendations aside from the fact that they all sounded interesting to me.” Her eyes scanned the shelves, but stopped at a tan and orange book, sleeve well worn down. 

Frank glanced at her selection. “Catcher in the Rye, huh?”

Karen nodded, hand grazing over the cover. “Read it back in high school. I think it was required for one of my literature classes. Everyone and their mother has probably read it already, but, um...” Frank watched as she fell into a wave of nostalgia, noticing the expression on her face shifting. “It was, uh, Kevin’s favorite. My younger brother.” As tears formed at the corners of her eyes, she struggling to find the right words. “Begged me to read this to him all the damn time.” Opening the front cover, Karen took out a small polaroid picture, edges creased, but photo otherwise unharmed. 

“This was Christmas of 2005, I think. I gave him my copy as a present. He must have read this book cover to cover a million times...” She paused, reflecting on the memory that felt like it had occurred centuries ago.

“He, um, he died when he was 16.”

The smile on Frank’s face wore off, caught off guard by Karen’s response. He had always shared stories about his family with her—ones about the ridiculous holiday traditions Maria would always nag him about to the silly memories of catching Lisa and Frank Jr. stealing cookies from the kitchen, way past their bedtime. He didn’t know much about Karen’s family though, and reckoned this was probably the first time she had ever shared something this personal with him. He knew she had grown up in Fagan Corners, Vermont, but had moved to New York to pursue a career. Could pick out a piece of her writing based on her style and get it right every time. Hell, he had even memorized her order at the rundown Thai restaurant just down the block. However, there was a lot he didn’t _really_ know about Karen. He’d been okay with that—he never wanted to push or step outside his boundaries—but hearing about her brother for the first time made him realize there was a lot more to Karen than what she so often displayed. 

_Yeah, I uh... When I was a little girl, I did the same thing. Except ginger snaps and, um, broom closet. Pretend it was a spaceship. Take me...far away._

_I guess we need that, right? We need to get away sometimes._

“I know I don’t really share a lot of personal things with you, Frank. And it isn’t fair when you share so much with me. It’s just...hard for me to find the words, you know? Kinda ironic coming from a journalist.” She laughed, wiping the last of her tears from her face. “But I guess, I think what I’m trying to say is that I want to try harder. I don’t know if you’ve read this book, you might not even like Salinger. But...this book means a lot to me, meant a lot of Kevin. I’ve never shared something like this with someone before, but...I want to share it with you.” Placing the photograph back into the book, she closed the front cover and held it out for Frank to take.

Frank glanced down and accepted the book, holding it gently in his hands as if he were afraid it would fall apart under his grip. The gesture meant a lot to him, and he felt that it said a lot about them, about how far they’d come. Two broken people who somehow were lucky enough to meet under such unfortunate circumstances. Pulling her into a hug, Frank lightly kissed the side of her head.

“Thank you, Karen.”

///

Borrowing books eventually became Frank’s new habit, giving him yet another excuse to visit more frequently. He stopped by every Friday after Karen returned from work, sometimes surprising her by cooking dinner as opposed to sharing their usual takeout. 

He’d placed her copy of _All the King’s Men_ back on the shelf, eyeing the rest of the books that towered over him.

“Got any new suggestions?”

Karen gazed over Frank’s shoulder, quietly humming to herself before grabbing a book.

“Ever heard of East of Eden?”

Glancing at the cover, Frank nodded his head in vague recognition. “Never read it, but Curt recommended it to me a few times. Guess it’s gotta be pretty good then, huh?”

“Curtis is a smart man.” Finding a comfy position on the sofa, Karen opened the book, pages still fairly crisp since the one and only time she’d read it years ago. “I’ve uh, got an idea.”

Frank turned back around, eyebrows raised. “And what might that be?”

“So I’m in a really comfortable position and don’t want to get up…” Karen covered her mouth in an attempt to silence her giggling, aware of how ridiculous her request was going to sound. “Hear me out...if you pour us some drinks, I’ll read this to you.”

Frank snickered as he made his way into the kitchen, mind already made up on sharing a bottle of whiskey. “This book better be good, Page.”

///

_“Samuel wheeled on him and his eyes were filled with tears. ‘Don’t think it will ever die,’ he cried. ‘Don’t expect it. Are you better than other men? I tell you it won’t ever die until you do.’ He stood panting for a moment and then he climbed into the rig and whipped Doxology and he drove away, his shoulders hunched, without saying good-by.”_

Karen closed the novel, finishing off part two of four, ready to call it a night.

Frank blinked at her, unable to comprehend why she was closing the book. “C’mon Kare. You can’t leave me on a cliffhanger like that.”

Karen rubbed her eyes, a wide array of exhaustion and alcohol floating through her veins. Her body was fighting her, crying for an ounce of sleep, but all she wanted was to stay like this—safe, warm, without a worry in mind—just a little bit longer.

“Okay. One more.”

Scooting closer to Frank, Karen tucked her feet under her and rested against his side. It would only be a matter of minutes after Frank would wrap his arm around her that they would doze off, the sound of rain and police sirens quietly ringing just outside the window.

**Author's Note:**

> regarding a few mechanics and choices within the work...
> 
> most of the books i selected (the catcher in the rye, all the king's men, east of eden) were honestly chosen on the whim. i played around with the idea of TCITR being kevin's favorite book in another piece i had worked on—i probably was just projecting because i myself enjoy the book a lot. as for ATKM and EOE, both were just books i had read way back in high school, but thoroughly enjoyed and figured frank might, too.
> 
> please feel free to leave kudos and comments; they are greatly appreciated! thanks for reading!
> 
> find me on twitter: @svgawaraa  
> find me on tumblr: @r-edesignme


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